the fighter
by alittletasteofheaven
Summary: AU. Somehow, in the midst of this horrifying war, Sasuke finds himself again in her. — sasusaku/ sasuke-centric.


**Naruto (c) Masashi Kishimoto**

* * *

"Why do you fight?" a soft, feminine voice questioned.

He shifted his gaze over to the nurse at his bedside, his charcoal black eye locking with her green. He was captivated by her unique features; short, light pink hair, thick eyelashes, thin lips and those _eyes—_a deep, emerald green with flecks of aqua in them.

"Why do I fight?" he repeated, his voice gruff from the grueling battle he had fought hours before. He absentmindedly smoothed the bandages wrapped over his injured eye. "What do you mean?"

The pink-haired nurse gently took his hand and guided it away from his injury, resting it at his side once again. "Well… it's always intrigued me. Why you all go out there and risk your lives. For what do you fight for? For what are these people dying for? For what did you risk getting your eye injured for? Surely it must be something important, otherwise you're all dying in vain."

He was silent for a while, mulling over her questions. "Not really. I don't really have a reason. I'm just… fighting."

She smiled faintly, but a forlorn and dejected look was present in her eyes, as if she expected that answer. "I see."

"Why do you think we fight?" he asked, the question spilling from his lips before he realized it. Why was he even having this conversation? He was never one to randomly converse with strangers, much less pink-haired ones. He supposed he was just tired of being told what to do without so much a reason, tired of seeing other soldiers follow those orders without complaint, seeing _himself _follow those same orders with a blank expression, like a mindless war drone unable to think for himself.

"I believe everyone has a different reason. The soldier from the well-to-do family fights for his family's honor. The soldier from the poor family fights to put food on the table. The soldier who was ridiculed back home fights to prove himself worthy of respect. The soldier who loves his friends fights to protect them. And then there are soldiers like you, who have seen so much destruction and despair that all reason seems to leave you." She paused, a faraway look on her face, as if recalling something. "Everyone has a reason to fight, but none seem to know what they're giving up their lives for, or why. For what great reason do these soldiers have to die, with not even one person seeing or knowing about their deaths?"

He had the nerve to chuckle despite the glum mood. "Cynical, aren't you?"

She furrowed her brow. "No, I'm just realistic."

He watched her for a moment. "Then, let me ask you a question. Why are you here? You're so convinced that we're all dying for nothing, yet here you are, healing us to go back out there to do nothing but fight and die. If anything, you're just enabling the very cause you're so against. So why are you even here?"

He saw a wave of resentment flash in her eyes, disappearing as fast as it came. "I'm here for those nameless soldiers. I'm here to find a reason for their senseless deaths, nothing more, nothing less. I heal people like you in hopes that when you're out there, you'll find the answer to why you're willing to die. And maybe that answer will fuel your strength to fight for something you'll actually believe in and survive. No more martyr complexes."

They both fell silent. He realized she was right; he was numb from all the death he'd seen. He'd kept on fighting because that's all he's ever known, but he didn't know why. He was just another lost soul wandering the earth, just waiting to die. He hadn't even realized himself before this woman made it clear to him: He was fighting in hopes that he would die.

He stared at this strange, pink-haired woman in wonder. How did she know all these things when he didn't know this himself?

"Why…did you talk to me in the first place?" he asked, breaking the silence that hung over them.

She smiled ruefully. "I've seen many people like you. Lost. Traumatized. And each time, I wanted to help them find their way again. Because even if this world is dark and cruel, it is also beautiful." She let her words sink in for a moment before standing up. "I have one more thing I want to ask you."

"What?"

"What's your name?"

He was taken aback for a moment. "Why?"

She smiled again, but he sensed it was different from the others. It was almost…hopeful. "So you won't become one of those nameless soldiers."

He felt a ghost of a smile form on his lips. "Uchiha Sasuke."

"Haruno Sakura." He almost laughed at how fitting her name was. "And Sasuke?" He looked up as she opened the door to his room.

"Hn?"

"For your sake, I hope you survive." She looked at him one last time over her shoulder before closing the door.

In a few days' time, he was back on the battlefield. And whenever he fought, he thought of pink hair and sea green eyes that urged him to push on and _fight _for an answer—and realized he already did.

His answer was her.

* * *

Not too OOC I'm hoping? Considering the circumstances of the story, I believe they're not too far off character. Well...maybe Sasuke was too much of a chatterbox. But he actually talks a lot more than the fandom thinks he does, so I'll still stand by my case!

This was inspired largely by Shingeki No Kyojin. Particularly Jean and his reaction to Marco's death. I've been wanting to write a war fic for sasusaku for FOREVER, but I didn't have any ideas. (I'm not even sure what war they're fighting but...use your imagination? ouo;;; ugh I'm sorry for my horrible planning skills)

Sorry for the lack of romance, but I wanted angst. There's romance if you squint! OTL

Please review and tell me what you think!


End file.
